Becoming a Legend RE
by Older than Time
Summary: A Skyrim S/I fic and the sequal to the still unfinished Becoming a Hero fanfic. Rewritten Chapters 1-3 Up!
1. Prologue

_**HERE IT IS!**_

_THE __**REWRITTEN **__THIRD IN MY SELF-INSERTION SERIES:__** Becoming a Legend – a Journey into the land of Skyrim**_

_I did this rewrite with the help of my younger siblings and few good friends of mine. It's different than I was going for.  
_

* * *

_For those that read my __**Becoming a Hero**__ fic, sorry for the long wait._

_For those that didn't, try reading that fic first to get a good idea on who I am and what I can do._

_Also for a little tidbit, my other fic: __**Journey to the Black**__, is a divergent story from the end of __**Becoming a Hero**__ and can be read along with this one. Both __**JttB**__ and __**BaL**__ are parallel stories and will eventually be merged into on final fic, tentatively labeled: __**Becoming a Man**__._

_So basically, the order of my current stories goes like this:_

_Becoming a Hero_

_Becoming a Legend/Journey to the Black_

_Becoming a Wanderer – A series of side insertions that will probably stay as one-shots unless I get inspired._

_Becoming a Man_

_Now on with the prologue of…_

* * *

_**Becoming a Legend!**_

* * *

_Life sucks…_

_I'm a pretty nice guy. I consider myself a bit of a hero considering I pretty much saved Cyrodiil from a freakin' Daedric Prince of Destruction…_

_Yet here I am, standing before a frenzied mob of citizens from every race, every single one of them baying for my blood…_

_As I stare out into the sea of angry faces, a memory creeps to the forefront of my mind. The memory of how I ended up like this; the memory of the day the world cursed the name Lost-Saint…_

* * *

**Seven days after the defeat of Mehrunes Dagon…**

I sat on the roof of Cloud Ruler Temple, staring up at the cloudless sky. Or at least I was sitting on what's left of the temple… The once proud Akaviri fortress was nothing but a crumbling ruin atop the battle-scarred mountain. Despite the state of the former fortress, it paled in comparison to the whole land of Cyrodiil. The cities of Bruma, Leyawiin, Kvatch and Bravil were just smoldering piles of rubble. Skingrad, Cheydinhal and Anvil were relatively intact and the Imperial City was a devastated series of districts with the Imperial Palace toppled into the Arena. The Waterfront was pretty much sunk, or at least it would be if there was enough water left in Lake Rumare. The sheer heat and hellish fire of Dagon's entry and his sheer presence evaporated most of the surrounding lake when he first appeared.

Suffice to say that we were pretty much facing famine, widespread chaos and major economic depression. Already the citizens were rioting at the temporary meeting place for the surviving Imperial Council, Castle Skingrad. Already several storehouses have been ransacked and the local guards are being slowly overwhelmed by the panicked citizenry. However the surviving council made an announcement that's managed to quell the uprising, however short the reprieve may be.

I've been accused of high treason. There was much 'evidence' linking me in a conspiracy to not only end the Septim Line, aiding in the death of two emperors, but also being a high ranking member of the Mythic Dawn and a worshipper of various other daedra. The Daedric artifacts and Mythic Dawn robes I had in my possession only solidified the charges.

Sad thing is; I'm the one who told the council to do it. The people need reassurance, an outlet for their despair and I…

…I'm pretty much done…

Don't look at me like that. I'm tired and I've given up…

_(Flashback)_

"_You can't possibly be serious Arthur!"_

_Jauffre gripped my robes, shaking me roughly. I just announced my plan to him and the Council, a plan to quell the people of Cyrodiil and restore order long enough for peace to return. I was to be sacrificed for the greater good of Tamriel._

"_Dead serious Jauffre…"_

"_God's Blood! This isn't the answer; it isn't the way Renault wanted you to live! Don't let her sacrifice be in vain!"_

_Jauffre slammed me against the castle rampart, trying to make me see sense. I know he's right but I won't change my mind. I shove him away and leap off the castle wall, grabbing the hanging tapestry to slow my fall and gently land in the courtyard. I head out into the night, heading straight toward the rendezvous point. It was in front of the cathedral where a small platoon on Legionnaires would be waiting to arrest me._

_All part of the plan…_

_(Flashback End)_

I stayed in the care of the Imperial Legion for two days until the Guard Captain in charge let me out for one last look around Cyrodiil before my execution. But seeing various piles of rubble just reminded me of all I had lost, so I decided to stay in the ruins of Cloud Ruler Temple until the last day of my now meaningless life.

Even now I hear the clanking footsteps of my guards coming up the mountain path. My execution is tomorrow and I'll finally join Renault…

_I'm stand before a bloodthirsty mob, each baying for the river flowing red through my veins…_

_The headman takes a somber step forward as I kneel before the populous…_

_I see Jauffre fighting his way through the crowd…_

_I can't help but remember all the happy times we lived. I can almost see them standing upon that faraway hill…_

_Martin, humble and noble_

_Baurus, steadfast and loyal_

_Maron, cheeky and ever-happy_

_The Blades, joyful and spirited all_

_Renault, fiery passion evermore…_

_Jauffre calls out, his voice lost in the crowd…_

_I smile at him as the axe descends…_

_I feel a sharp pain…_

…

…

_It all goes black…_


	2. Chapter 1

_I know my readers are probably a bit put out with me. I'm a bit pissed off with myself. Here's the major changes in __**Becoming a Legend**__ that are confirmed and are very unlikely to change:_

_I've changed the prologue I based the story around. It's no longer the __**Draugr**__-themed prologue, it's a combination of the __**Dragon-**__themed prologues I'm using with a bit of __**Prisoner **__thrown in for flavor._

_Secondly, I've based the main storyline around the descendent of Arthur Lost-Saint and the currently unnamed Dragonborn. I won't appear for a few chapters to say the least._

_Next, the 'story' in this chapter is a children's story… It's not supposed to be that great._

_Last up, the MQ and Side Q's will differ a good deal from the game. I'm traveling in a dimension that the game was based on, not within the game itself. The characters __**will**__ be out of character._

* * *

**Becoming a Legend**

* * *

_Jauffre calls out, his voice lost in the crowd…_

_I smile at him as the axe descends…_

_I feel a sharp pain…_

…

…

_It all goes black…_

* * *

_**Chapter 1 RE – Can't take the sky from me…**_

* * *

A fire crackles within its hearth as a rocking chair creaks with each sway; the storm outside howls loudly, rattling the windows with each gust. A little girl wearing a ragged nightgown leaped onto her mother's lap, thrusting a tattered and bent book into the woman's arms.

"Mama, you said you'd finish this one! You promised!"

The woman chuckled, smiling kindly as she takes the book and settles her daughter into her lap. Wrapping one arm around the snuggling child, she palms the book open. Upon the first page lies a story oft forgotten, one told only to those who still remember the stranger in white who saved an empire…

"Aye, I remember love. Remember where we left off? 'The Legend of the White Rider...'"

* * *

"…_the city had fallen into chaos; demons feasted upon the people as the defenders slowly fell to the dark armies. The Maroon Dragon watched from atop the White Tower, summoning more of his devils with a mighty roar. The band of heroes rode through the city, cleaving many a devil in two as they fought the monsters with all their might. The Great Temple awaited their arrival; the Altar of Eternal Fire waiting to be lit by the uncrowned heir._

"_The hero in white; he slew every devil that dared stand before his white steed. One and two, through and through; his blade struck true. With a swish and stab he slew many and never fell back. Forward he led the heir and his mounted guard, the scholarly Septimus and the Vanguards. The demons fell to their blades; a path of corpses followed their charges' wake. The dark demon god, the Maroon Dragon roared as it destroyed more of the White City as it chased after the hero and his horse-mounted band._

"_Into the Temple Septimus and the Champion strode, swords dripping with the ichor of their foes. With a mighty crash the Maroon Dragon ripped open the Temple's roof, turning his burning gaze to the two within. With a great leap, Septimus stood upon the unlit pedestal, raising his ring to the sky. The heir was bathed in ethereal light as he took a new form, becoming the avatar of the god-king Aralot. The golden titan roared in defiance and struck the Maroon Dragon with his golden blade._

"_With that single blow the Maroon Dragon was defeated and sent hurtling back beyond the Veil, never to return. The skies cleared and the people cried out with glee; the soldiers cheered for their victorious king. Yet young Septimus would never take his crown, for the magicks he wielded were never meant for mortal shells._

"_The heir was lifted into the sky; a pillar of light carried him into the godly realm. The White City both celebrated their victory and mourned their loss; the White Champion left the City, never to be seen again."_

"_Upon his white steed he rode,_

_Never looking back and his head held high._

_Up in the clouds he stared,_

_The endless evening sky."_

"_Legend tells of the White Rider,_

_Amongst the mists and clouds he shall wait._

_For a new purpose and new destiny,_

_A fight for the Empire's fate."_

"_So remember the White Rider,_

_Remember young one._

_Of our hero so bold,_

_He who rode into the Setting Sun."_

* * *

"It was a night just like this…"

A scarred soldier turned and saw his captain, a fierce woman with blazing red hair and a strange wistful expression on her face. Curiously he glanced around and concluded she must have been talking to him.

"What happened on what night ma'am?"

The captain, almost frighteningly out of character for she was usually very strict to the soldiers on duty, half-smiled at him.

"It was a night just like this when my mother told me of a legend; a story of the Hero of Cyrodiil, '_The Legend of the White Rider'_."

"The White Rider eh… I remember that story as well ma'am."

The soldier then looked out over the battlements and across the gorge where the rebels were just lying in wait. The rebel troops had pushed the Legion back and settled out in the open; wooden palisades and rebel flags visible just across the bridge. The soldier scowled at the banners bearing the roaring bear of Windhelm and the dragon skulls adorning the enemy fort. The flags were bad enough, each symbol shouting 'Hail Ulfric!' at him. But the skulls just showed how futile their cause was; how the rebels had a bloody hero to rally under.

The Imperial Legion and Imperial rule would soon be cast out of Skyrim and those bleedin' Thalmor would call their armies to overtake the Fatherland. The soldier sighed.

"Could use a man like him right now… Those damn Stormcloaks are wearing us down; whittling away at us and calling even more of our own men to their cause and false king. We've been pushed back at every battlefront ever since the Dragonborn sided with Ulfric."

With a small chuckle the captain leant with her back against on the worn palisade wall. She stared not towards the opposing fort but towards the setting sun, remembering the hero who rode into its dying blaze.

"The Dragonborn have always been heroes of Skyrim. How could we not falter at the Nords' greatest hero rides against us in a tide of fire and steel?"

"But what about those elves, the Aldmeri Dominion… They're just waiting in their warships off the coast of Solitude, ready to swoop in when Ulfric gets that crown. What will we do when our homeland falls to those pointy eared bastards?"

The soldier turned to his captain with a solemn expression but was confused by how…happy she seemed. The captain looked right into his eyes and said,

"Hope for a miracle…"

The soldier took a step back at her near-crazed expression.

"Hope for a miracle; we hope for a bloody miracle?!"

The woman just laughed loudly and stared at the setting sun. The evening rays glimmered on the snowy fort and bright stars filled the sky.

"What else can we do? With that bloody bitch leading Ulfric's forces, those flying lizards swooping about and the Thalmor breathing down our necks; we've not a chance in the world. A miracle's all we can hope for at this point." With a rueful smile the captain glanced at the dying sun. "Wonder what he must've been like; the White Rider…"

The soldier huffed. He wondered if the captain finally went off the deep end. The Empire was about to be driven out of Skyrim and she suddenly had a fascination with the bloody Rider. He shrugged noncommittally.

"Doesn't matter now… Why'd you bring him up in the first place captain? 'Specially at a time like this…"

She too shrugged; her rueful half-smile still in place.

"You forget who I am soldier? How can I not wonder at a time like this…"

"Not sure what you mean by that ma'am…"

The captain sighed and pulled her sword from her belt, holding the naked blade out to him. The soldier took it carefully, wondering what was so special about her strange sword. He had seen it from afar many times; the gleaming sword almost laughably thin compared to the cold iron and steel used by both the Legion and Stormcloaks. Yet it had easily stood up to the hammering blows of many a warhammer and battleaxe, despite its slimness. Raising it to the light, he nearly dropped it in shock. The captain easily caught the sword as it slipped from his numb fingers. She sheathed and walked away, singing quietly.

"_Take my love, take my land_

_Take me where I cannot stand._

_I don't care, I'm still free_

_You can't take the sky from me."_

The soldier shakily reached out and downed his previously forgotten ale. He couldn't believe he had been serving under her for so long, not realizing who she was. The blade was a true treasure of Tamriel; a legendary artifact almost two hundred years old. Despite many attempted thefts and assassinations, the Flame of the West had never left the Lost Saint line. Even when the family name had all but died out, a new unknown member would appear with the fabled blade in their hands. Not many remembered his descendents; but no one would forget the blade of the hero-turned-traitor, and then later revealed as a hero once more, the Champion of Cyrodiil…the White Rider.

"_Burn the land and pour the sea,_

_You can't take the sky from me…_

_You can't take the sky from me."_


	3. Chapter 2

_I'll be now trying for longer chapters, a minimum of 2500 words apiece. I hope you all enjoy this rewrite. I'm a bit more dramatic with this story, and won't actually be appearing until a few more chapters in. Right now we'll be following the journey of a soldier and captain of the Imperial Legion as the Empire is being slowly pushed out of Skyrim and the Stormcloaks gain more and more ground._

_Alduin has yet to be defeated and most of the Holds are now under Ulfirc's banner. Only Solitude, Markarth and Morthal remain in Imperial control. Most of the forts are still under bandit control with a few under Stormcloak and Imperial control._

_The Dragonborn fights for the Stormcloaks and has walked the 7,000 steps to High Hrothgar. She's spoken with the Greybeards but has yet to meet with Delphine._

_Like I previously stated, I (as in my SI) won't appear for another chapter or so. Whether I'll support the Stormcloaks or the Empire is yet to be seen._

* * *

**Becoming a Legend**

* * *

The soldier shakily reached out and downed his previously forgotten ale. He couldn't believe he had been serving under her for so long, not realizing who she was. The blade was a true legend of Tamriel; an artifact almost two hundred years old. Despite many attempted thefts and assassinations, the Flame of the West had never left the Lost Saint line. Even when the family name had all but died out, a new unknown member would appear with the fabled blade in their hands. Not many remembered his descendents; but no one would forget the blade of the hero-turned-traitor, and then later revealed as a hero once more, the Champion of Cyrodiil…the White Rider.

"_Burn the land and pour the sea,_

_You can't take the sky from me…_

_You can't take the sky from me."_

* * *

**Chapter 2 RE – And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies."**

* * *

"Archers! Loose!"

A hail of arrows pelted the would-be attackers crossing the Dragon Bridge. It had been less than a fortnight since the soldier and captain had spoken that night and already the rebels had tried forcing their way across the open bridge to the Imperial defensive line. Not one made it across this time but the Stormcloaks had almost succeeded less than a week ago.

The Dragonborn, a tanned Nord woman clad in Ancient Nordic Armor had nearly blasted through using the Voice to force the gates open. The Stormcloaks swarmed over the bridge and nearly overwhelmed the Legion. The battle would have continued in their favor had it not been for the heroics of the captain herself. She charged the Dragonborn head on, keeping the woman on the defensive long enough for the Legion's reinforcements to arrive. The new troops were able to chase off the red beast, forcing the rebels and their champion to retreat back across the bridge. The reprieve was short-lived as the Stormcloak catapults launched several boulders towards the town, injuring several soldiers, three civilians and destroying two houses. Adding to the gaping holes in the defensive walls, the Legion had taken a beating that would keep them hurting for a while.

Today was just the latest attempt by the Stormcloaks. The soldier ducked behind the wall as a hail of arrows rained upon them; they retaliated with not only arrows but also more than a few _Firebolt, Ice Spear _and _Lightning Bolt_ spells from the imperial mages. Peeking out, he nocked an arrow and loosed it smoothly; the shaft flew true and speared a Stormcloak in the shoulder, knocking off the bridge and into the watery rapids below.

"Good shot soldier."

Still crouched behind the wall, the soldier whirled around and found his captain crouched with a bow out as well. This had been happening a lot lately. The woman would often appear near him at the oddest of times, regardless of whether it was in the middle of patrol or during battle. It was both refreshing and rather discerning to say the least.

"Thank you Captain. Wh-"

The soldier was cut off when a particularly powerful spell struck the wooden palisade he was crouched behind, sending both captain and soldier down to the ground. Shaking the dirt and stars from his head the soldier tried to get up, only to find a somewhat heavy body on top of him. Opening his eyes he found that the captain was laying over him, still trying to get her bearings. The soldier tried to speak but was silenced by the next round of spells blasting the ground around them and the sight of the gates starting to collapse. The Stormcloaks were pushing through!

"Ma'am, the gates!"

The captain snapped awake and flung herself to her feet, already rushing towards the now-opened gates. The soldier and several others ran after her, slamming steel to steel with the invading rebels. He lost track of the captain in the thick of it, her sword flashing as she slew Stormcloaks one after the other. He would have admired the way she danced around the rebels' blades if not for the few that were still trying to take his head. The soldier had barely finished his own fights when he saw the captain struggling against four rebels who had cornered her against the still-standing palisade. With nary a thought, he rallied two others and rushed to her aid.

* * *

The men were celebrating their victory. Once again they had managed to push the Stormcloaks back and it was all thanks to their fiery haired captain. The feast was messy, meager and mostly burnt, yet the meat and ale couldn't have tasted better. The soldier looked around him and saw his comrades reveling in their own ways.

Farid, the Redguard hailing from southern Cyrodiil was busy exploring the hidden treasures of one their female comrades while Eirik, the overly-muscled Nord was in the midst of a drinking contest with several others. The soldier sighed in content, glad to see that the few friends he had left were well and enjoying themselves. He had barely started on his mead when a near boneless body flung itself onto the bench beside him, toppling over several empty tankards and half eaten trays. He turned his head and was greeted by the sight of a very drunk, very red-faced captain.

"C-captain?!"

It was strange to see the normally strict woman like this. Most of the time the captain had a stern countenance about her with a few mysterious half-smiles thrown in after a victory. To see her so deep into the mugs was a rare sight; even more so to see her in a dress! Her face was alight with joy and her whole presence screamed drunk!

"H-_hic_-how gum…con…cone glum?"

The slurred question was easy to decipher, having grown up in Riverwood with a few others many times worse when half as drunk as she.

"I'm not sad captain. I'm quietly happy for everyone being alive and it's all thanks to you."

The woman snorted as she half spilled, half drank her tankard. Most of the honeyed mead spilled onto her dress, leaving the soldier with a clear view of her trim body beneath. He blushed at the wet and near transparent blue cloth, barely able to take his eyes away. By the time he did, he found the captain staring at him with a smug look on her face and a wry smile on her lips. She licked her lips yet he was the one suddenly dry in the mouth.

"Emjolin' you-seph?"

He sputtered hastily, trying to apologize for his blatant staring when she cut him off rather handily. With a smoldering kiss and a drunken grope to his crotch, the captain dragged the now shocked soldier to her tent. They did not appear until well into the next day with the captain walking around with a pronounced limp and a smile wide enough to send the soldiers into panic. The soldier appeared sometime later at his post beside Farid and Eirik. The two glanced at him curiously as he tried to fix his torn uniform. They said nothing about the tears in the chainmail or about the slices at the seams. After all, a battle had just happened yesterday. Neither commented on the fact that he had worn a new set of armor to the celebration instead of his battle-scarred one.

* * *

The soldier almost sighed in relief. At least until Farid broke and loudly inquiring who he had bedded. The salacious Redguard started naming every female soldier and civilian in Dragon Bridge. Their friend sputtered many denials, but especially when Eirik boisterously added the captain to the line-up. The two continued their activities until the captain herself suddenly appeared, stony countenance back in place. The two gulped audibly as she stepped towards them; they did sigh in relief as she bypassed them and headed straight to their shaking friend.

"You forgot this in my tent Hadvar."

The captain held out his sword as Farid and Eirik's jaws dropped at the revelation. Hadvar clumsily accepted not only his sword but a deep kiss from the captain before she swaggered off, a deliberate and exaggerated sway in her step. The whole courtyard had gone silent. At least until Farid choked out,

"You bagged Captain Arturia?! How are you still alive?!"

The rest of the troops silently asked the same question.

* * *

"I'm being promoted?!"

Hadvar stood before captain Arturia. He had been promoted for his service, despite his severe misgivings.

"But, I couldn't poss-"

He was interrupted by the woman's pointed glare. Rocking back on his heels, Hadvar listened to what Arturia had to say.

"Orders came straight from Gen. Tullius and Legate Rikke themselves. They needed some new officers to help secure the chain of command and the men unanimously voted to suggest you as a choice. We need men like you to keep the troops' morale high. There's no point in fighting for a country when none of the locals are on our side. With more skilled Skyrim-born officers like you in the ranks, we'll be able to keep more troops from defecting to Ulfric's rebels."

"*sigh* I understand Cpt. Arturia."

The woman tossed a heavy steel officer's helm at him, a playful smirk on her face.

"None of that Hadvar, we're equal in rank now. It's Arturia from you, got it?"

Hadvar sighed again and nodded his head. He needed to get his things and move into his new quarters.

* * *

**Roughly three days after Hadvar's promotion.**

A freak blizzard had struck the town, forcing the Legion and Stormcloak troops to seek shelter within their respective encampments. Those that remained on guard duty were particularly miserable, being assaulted by icy winds and sheer walls of snow. Within the Dragon Bridge Inn, most of the Legionnaires huddled in groups around the roaring hearth, exchanging stories and gossip to pass the time.

"...-chopped clean through his shield with a single slice! Never saw such a sight in my life!"

"...Captain Arturia has been in battles all over Skyrim. She's been here since the rebellion started."

"That blade of hers, I swear to Talos it shined brighter than any I've ever seen. Come to think of it, I haven't seen her take it to the grindstone once."

"Reckon it's enchanted; must be if it cuts through armor like a hot blade through butter."

Hadvar sighed as the men nearby gossiped about the fiery captain. He'd heard the stories before coming under her command and had seen her in action. The rumors do not do her justice. Hadvar had been about to return to his soup when he heard the next bit.

"Remember seeing the new captain, Hadvar at his post after the celebration? Looked like he took on a saber cat barehanded; word is that he went to bed with Captain Arturia and wasn't seen 'til late that afternoon. Armon swears he saw the Captain return his sword and practically shoved her tongue down his throat."

At this point Hadvar was red as an apple, his fellow officers smirking into their meals. A few of them glanced questioningly at the smug Arturia. She merely nodded with one of her blasted mysterious smirks on her face. A petite female soldier under their command almost dropped her bowl into the fire pit when Arturia held her hands roughly ten inches apart and glancing at Hadvar. Said Nord buried his head in his hands while the rest of the women stared at him; more importantly, at his crotch. He glanced up when he felt a hand pat his shoulder and saw Cpt. Arturia smiling at him.

"Relax Hadvar, tis not like they'll be jumping your bones anytime soon."

Hadvar almost smiled thanks to her reassurance, but the color quickly drained from his face when she ducked her head close, a decidedly lecherous smile on her face.

"After all, I claimed first dibs on you when you transferred under my command."

_At this point, Hadvar tensed suddenly when he felt another pat, this time on his hindquarters…_

"You're mine!"

Said crazy woman just returned to her former demeanor and chatted with the women around her, acting as if nothing had just happened. Hadvar paled dramatically. How'd he get into this situation? Sure the recruiters sold the idea of seeing the world, wooing foreign maidens and serving the Empire. They never said anything about semi-crazy female captains with officer-subordinate fetishes using soldiers under their command.

* * *

**Across the Karth River in the Stormcloak Encampment…**

"_We drink to our youth, for the days come and gone._

_For the Age of Oppression is just about done._

_We'll drive out the Empire from this land that we own._

_With our blood and our steel, we will take back our home."_

Spirits were high despite the snowstorm outside their wooden fort. The 'true sons and daughters' of Skyrim had the Legion by the balls and they knew it. They sang and danced around the four hearths in the fort's main hall. After all, how could they not celebrate when they not only had the 'True High King' as a leader, but also the Dragonborn herself leading the charge?

"It's only a matter of time before we take Dragon Bridge. With Galmar leading the charge towards Karthwasten and Ulfric ready to march on Markarth, both Morthal and Solitude will fall just as the snow falls in Windhelm."

Tier silently scoffed at the arrogance the fort commander, a greedy Nord called Ragnar the Bloody. Despite being named for the false hero, Ragnar the Bloody had proven himself in many battles throughout the rebellion. Turning back to her ale, she stared glassily into the murky gold brew. It has been over two years since that fateful day in Helgen when that black dragon, Alduin had reappeared in Nirn.

She would always remember that day. The screams of the dying and the scent of burning flesh were scorched into her mind. Even now she could see the desperate dash through the Imperial fort and cavern beneath Helgen. If it wasn't for Ralof, she would likely have died that day.

Tier scowled at the thought of the Nord that saved her. She was very grateful to him but his constant pursuing of her was frustrating. She was fond of him as a friend but she had too many bad experiences with Nord men in the past to ever see him in a romantic light. Tier sighed and tried to take another sip of ale only to find she had finished the tankard. She idly slammed it to the table and marched off to her private chamber. Being the Dragonborn had its perks serving under Ulfric; private rooms and hot baths wherever she fought were very good perks indeed.

* * *

Back in the hall, Ralof stared at the retreating figure of the Dragonborn. His eyes tracked the alluring woman until she left the room.

"What a woman, eh Ralof?"

Said Nord jerked back to his drinking companions, Agneir and Elsie Far-Strider; both were Nords hailing from Dawnstar and had been fighting under Jarl Ulfric's banner since the beginning. And then there was Madge, a deceptively slim Breton woman with a penchant for seeking companionship with both sexes. Ralof couldn't help but nod in agreement with Agneir's observation.

The Dragonborn was indeed quite a woman. Ever since he first laid eyes on her, he knew he had to have her. Seeing her lay in that carriage as they rode to what he thought was the end, he couldn't help but fall in love with the woman. Who wouldn't? A tall, curvaceous woman with well-tanned skin and soft yet spiky blonde locks; when she first opened her eyes, Ralof felt like he was seeing a divine sword-maiden coming down from Sovngarde to guide him to its hallowed halls. Those deep emeralds pierced his very soul.

"_All hail to Ulfric, you are the High King!_

_In your great honor we'll drink and we'll sing!_

_We're the children of Skyrim and we fight all our lives._

_And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies."_

* * *

_**Author's Note**_

_**I won't be able to update as often until mid-November/beginning of December. Hopefully I'll have a decent Internet connection by then.**_


	4. Chapter 3

**Becoming a Hero**

* * *

"_All hail to Ulfric, you are the High King!_

_In your great honor we'll drink and we'll sing!_

_We're the children of Skyrim and we fight all our lives._

_And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies."_

* * *

**Chapter 3 – even 'til Sovngarde takes me…**

* * *

_I remember my first life…_

_The world of convergence, a world in which all others could be viewed; I was just some no name gamer with a penchant for strategy and role-playing games. Then through some twist of fate I ended up in Tamriel, during the end of the Third Era. I had a strange power, a power to ensure my existence and purpose._

_I found love, a sense of duty and a family in that Era. After my death, I was surrounded by light._

_Endless blinding light…_

* * *

Then I woke up.

I woke to a world of concrete jungles and towers of glass reaching towards the sky. Outside the air choked me with disease and corruption. Great steel beasts roared down roads of black and up into the open skies…

I was back on Earth.

Nearly a year passed, my monotonous life wore at me. My job didn't help any. I worked as a cashier at this pawn shop a few blocks away from my house. It was decent paying and I met a slew of 'interesting' people. I almost enjoyed, if not for one thing…

It dulled my battle-hardened skills and I could feel my magicka stores slowly wither away. I desperately tried to retain my prowess by constant training, but without the constant battles and true danger, I merely slowed the inevitable.

Like my body, my mind slowly deteriorated. I dreamed of Tamriel and its wonders. I dreamed of Oblivion and its horrors. I saw my dear friends in everyday life and my dead enemies in every shadow. Paranoia, Dementia, Schizophrenia, PTSD; I pretty much had it all. I saw a therapist every weekend for the past few months, mandatory as per my family's orders.

I idly considered killing them all. I was sick in the head to be sure…

I wondered if I would become mad as the Mad God himself.

It was three months into the New Year when I finally snapped. Luckily enough, it happened at the right time.

* * *

March 8, 2012:

At 3:44 pm, five masked men armed with handguns were witnessed enter a pawn shop. Ten people: three employees and seven customers were within the building. At exactly 4:00 pm, two of the gunmen were thrown from the building through the storefront window. Both suffered from severe lacerations to the chest and abdominal sections and dismemberment of their lower arms. A third gunman was thrown through the entryway, a dagger lodged in his head and an axe embedded in his lower intestines. Four police officers arrived on the scene at 4:10 pm and entered the premises. Two officers exited and radioed for medical personnel.

Medical personnel arrived at 4:43 pm and removed two body bags from the premises. Both remaining gunmen died of severe blunt force trauma and violent removal of their esophagi.

All civilian personnel left the premises uninjured. Two of the employees left the premises prior to the building exploding. The third employee's body was never recovered.

* * *

_The endless light returned._

_And then a voice echoed through the light, soothing yet monstrously powerful._

_**Alok dovah…**_

_**Alok kotin faal jun…**_

_**Alduin fent diivon faal hind do jul…**_

_**Komeyt hinThu'um ahrk fonaar kotin grah…**_

_**Viik Drog Alduin, Krinvahzii…**_

_I was filled with that same strange and familiar power from my second life. My bones ached and my muscles cried out as my body morphed, changing into a more powerful form._

_As sudden the pain was, it was over in the blink of an eye. Once I was a weak gamer, then a battle-scarred warrior._

_Now I was a majestic dragon, grey-white scales and huge wings. I was needed somewhere, a place far north of Cyrodiil, in a land of snow and ice._

_Krah ahrk vul…_

* * *

It was cold; cold and dark.

I shook against unseen bonds…

_Bein…_

A foul stench filled the darkness…

_Dinok…_

The scent of death, of soil within a grave, was all-encompassing…

A distant thudding, the sound of great wings beating against the wind grew closer. It's grown louder; up above me, beyond this pitch-blackness, it stayed. A deep rumbling voice, one full of power and pride, sounded through the darkness.

"_**-_-_-"**_

A surge of powerful energy, alien yet familiar pulsed through my being. It gave me strength; power enough for me to break loose of my bonds. I exploded out of my prison, a mound of earth and soil with a mighty roar. Ethereal flames encompassed me, restoring my body to its former glory. Once dead, now alive, I was free of the earthen prison and had regained my honor, my pride. Pale grey, near white scales shone in the winter sun as flakes of snow gathered upon my renewed flesh. Fresh, cold air rushed through my returned lungs; I was alive once more, not as a man but as a dragon.

There up above was one who spoke; there hovered a majestic black dragon, one I could not recognize yet knew was my lord, master and king. Or so he believed.

_Alduin…_

_**Alok, Krinvahzii…**_

He spoke in that strange tongue; one I did not know. Yet I understood all that he said.

_**Arise **__**Courageous-Sky-Spirit**__**. The world has long since changed since tour death. There is much strife amongst the mortals; easy prey for our warriors. Let us continue on our path of conquest, striking down those fools who would dare rise against us.**_

I felt a bile rise in my throat, a burning sensation; disgust…rage. I hated this black dragon with all my being.

**Deceiver!**

**Oathbreaker!**

My rage could not be contained and loosed a ball of fire at the arrogant king. The blast sent him hurdling into the trees. With cold fury fueling my body I took to the sky, instinct easily guiding me through the air. Wings beating with powerful strokes, I rose up above the clouds and dived back down, roaring at the still-fallen Alduin. He roared in return, loosing flames white _frin_. I dodged the torrent and answered with my own, further frying his black hide.

I fell upon him with a mighty crash and tore at his back with my fangs. He screamed in agony as I ripped out both scale and flesh. So focused I was in my attacks that I failed to sense the arrival of another _dov._

I was tossed from Alduin's back by a powerful _thu'um_. An enormous pulse of blue _jun_, an _Unrelenting Force_ pitched me into the rocky outcroppings on the forest floor. I dazedly watched as Alduin regenerated at an impossible pace and once again took to the sky. He roared at my fallen form and flew off, his unnamed ally hot on his tail.

"_**You will regret this Krinvahzii! Know that all dovah shall hunt you for your betrayal; beware the skies…fool."**_

I groaned as I struggled to stay conscious. I knew I had much to do, yet so little time was left. Skyrim would meet the its end if I did nothing to stop it.

Against my will, I blacked out and fell to the snow covered earth.

* * *

**Dragon Bridge, Legion Encampment**

Hadvar felt a faint sense of déjà vu. Once again he was ducking behind the wood palisade, the barrier protecting him from arrows and spell fire. The Stormcloaks were making another push across the stone bridge and the Legion had once again managed to hold them off. Cpt. Arturia was north near Solitude, leading a contingent of soldiers to Morthal to clear out a vampire clan that had taken up residence nearby. He'd been left in charge, much to his dismay.

To make matters worse, the Dragonborn was spotted behind enemy lines. Imperial intelligence proved wrong and she had remained here while Ulfric stormed Morthal. Talk about bad luck for the new captain.

"Stormcloaks advancing!"

"They've got a battering ram!"

Hadvar stole a glance at the bridge and they indeed had a battering ram, a hefty oaken log tipped in iron. Cursing softly, Havar was quick to dish out orders to his (temporarily) troops.

"Archers, concentrate your fire on the bridge. Mages, use _Fireball_s and any _Rune_ spells to halt their advance."

The men (and women) were quick to respond, dozens of arrows and fire magick hurtled towards the unprepared Stormcloaks. They were tossed from the bridge, the battering ram toppling over as well. The survivors retreated but Hadvar had the mages set up some _Rune_s along the stone bridge just in case.

Slowly the rain of arrows and spells ceased; the town and enemy encampment quieting as well. Hadvar breathed a sigh in relief. The first battle under his command and only a few injured men to show for it. The Stormcloaks never even made it across the bridge; a good sign to say the least.

Hadvar peeked out over the barrier and almost choked on his tongue. There, right across the gorge, was the Dragonborn; she stared right at him with her green eyes. And as quickly as he spotted her, she vanished. Trembling, Hadvar got down to assessing his men and supplies; he idly wondered why she seemed so familiar…

Shaking away his unnecessary thoughts, Hadvar got back to the tasks at hand.

Cpt. Arturia returned just as the sun was setting over the horizon, leading a small supply cart and twelve fresh recruits. Both were welcomed greatly by the still tired men of Dragon Bridge. Arturia was quick to receive Hadvar's debrief of the battle; she readily congratulated him on his victory.

"Hmph…and you were worried that you'd be a terrible Captain. Seems I'm proven right yet again…"

"Aye, you were right and I was wrong… That's beginning to be a trend now isn't it?"

She merely nodded and got back to going over some reports while Hadvar took his leave. Tomorrow was another day.

* * *

**Across the gorge, Stormcloak Encampment**

"This can't go on General; we've lost over eighty men just this month. We need a new strategy, a decent plan that'll get us across that bridge and behind those walls. Not another 'charge with fire in our hearts' suicide run."

The scarred veteran tiredly rubbed his temples as he presided over a war meeting with the Dragonborn and the fort commander, Ragnar the Bloody. Truly he wished he had some idea on what to do. The heavy push west had been largely successful, the Stormcloaks taking control of every hold until they reached the Karth River. The waterway served as a natural borderline for Imperial-controlled territories. The only exception was Morthal which was currently cut off from the east and south by a massive glacial wall that had appeared almost eight months ago. The blasted thing had just appeared one night and was nigh impenetrable and impassable; it was cursed according to some men.

"Bah! Just give me more men Stone-Fist and I'll have the town in a fortnight. We'd have taken the place sooner if the Dragonborn wasn't so cowardly. She's been holding us back, always questioning me in front of the men; she's undermining my authority here!"

Ragnar was savage in his rant, practically threatening the calm woman with his spiked-gloved fists. She merely glared back at him before dismissing him backhandedly. The angry Nord was further enraged and would have attacked her if not for Galmar's presence.

"Back down Ragnar; the lass would rip you apart before you even got close. Don't forget that those dragon skulls you're so proud of all came from her hunting those beasts done…alone."

Galmar Stone-Fist leaned heavily over the map of the local area, studying the faded ink carefully. He noted the potential crossing points up and down river, trying to find a suitable avenue for a small force to sneak in. He knew the Imperials had many troops patrolling the length of the river; not to mention the bloody Forsworn hiding in every nook and cranny of the Druadach and Reach.

"Ragnar, ready a small force; your best men, your veterans if you can. You'll head north and try crossing over at the mill. Stay hidden and only travel at night; if you have to travel by day, dress as brigands and keep off the main road. Head west and south over the mountains. In a week we'll attack the town from the bridge and you'll attack from the crags above. With any luck they'll be caught off guard long enough for us to send a force over to support you."

Ragnar grinned savagely, sending a smug glance to the still quiet Dragonborn. He'd show her; he'd lead his men to glory and give Ulfric a clear shot to Solitude. He'd be a hero…and then he'd show the bitch who was in charge. Oh, he'd show her…

With that, Ragnar marched out shouting for his men to gear up. The door slammed shut and Glunmar sagged in relief. Tier finally decided to speak up again.

"You just sent him on a suicide mission, didn't you?"

Galmar just stared at her as he gulped down his ale. With a heavy sigh, he explained…

"Ragnar's on his last legs. We've been having him spearhead the westward assault to keep him out of the way. The man's a brilliant fighter, a veritable beast on the battlefield; but he's no leader. We've been funneling the scum of our army to him, giving only those we don't want nor need, the former bandits, murderers and convicts that we conscripted from the Holds.

"I was surprised you haven't noticed actually. All twelve of his veterans are the last of them. The new recruits I brought with me, the ones Ragnar will be leaving behind, are fresh conscripts, clean as fresh snow. They've never seen any major battles so keep them safe and when Ragnar makes his move, withdraw. Let the Legion take care of him and his men. Ulfric doesn't need savages like Ragnar leading his men."

Galmar left at that, leaving Tier to her thoughts. It was surprisingly coldblooded of Ulfric…but Tier suspected that Ulfric didn't know about such actions either.

* * *

Ralof watched from his post as the fort commander and almost a third of the men stationed here headed north. He had a good idea what was going on; General Galmar having filled in a number of loyal men of his plan. Good riddance to the scum was his main thought. He soon returned to his musings on how to approach the Dragonborn…romantically. So far she'd either spurned his advances or outright ignored him.

His fellows were poor help; their advice foolish at best. Some suggestions were rather sound; being at her side during battle and proving his worth to her. Others were downright outrageous; coming to her at the dead of night and serenading her with the finest love poetry he knew. And he knew very few poems, none actually about love at all; all were either battle chants or raunchy limericks.

"Anything unusual Ralof?"

He turned and found a tankard of warm mead thrust into his hands by Freya, a fairly recent recruit to the encampment. Ralof grunted a negative at her question and kept his gaze to the road. Freya took a seat beside him, lighting up a fresh torch.

"You know Ralof, there's heavy wagerin' on when the Dragonborn'll slam down your next proposal. Any thoughts on when you're tryin' again? I'll split the pot if I place a good bet close to the date."

"Funny Fair-Shield, there's plenty of wagering on who you'll be bedding next. Any thoughts on who? I have my gold on Haldir and Hrodin…at once."

The woman growled at Ralof, gripping her iron battleaxe. It was no secret that she openly practiced her 'Dibellan arts' with anyone, man (or woman), willing. Some looked down on her for it and it got on her nerves many a time. She got up and left Ralof, returning to the warmth of the wooden lodge and its four hearths.

'_I'll ask Tier to have dinner with me tomorrow night. If she says no, I'll back off a while longer. I'll keep trying for her hand; even 'til Sovngarde takes me.'_


	5. Chapter 4

**Becoming a Legend**

* * *

'_I'll ask Tier to have dinner with me tomorrow night. If she says no, I'll back off a while longer. I'll keep trying for her hand; even 'til Sovngarde takes me.'_

* * *

**Chapter 4 RE – **_**Dovahkiin fah hin kogaan mu draal!**_

* * *

**High above the pool-marked Rift, a white dragon circles the Bonestrewn Crest…**

Krinvahzii…

Courageous Sky Spirit…

Yet another name for me to get used to. The sheer power I felt coursing through me; deep within me I could feel my very soul cry out with joy as I freewheeled through the clouds. Being a dragon wasn't half bad…

My wings stilled, leveling out as I descended from the clouds, keeping an eye out for any dragon nesting on the hilltop. I saw none for miles so I glided down and landed heavily before the Dragon Wall. Gazing upon the wall, I found that I could read the strange slashes.

"_**Pah WERID SONaan LUNERIO**_

_**WEN YUVON LOVaaS MeyZ**_

_**FO HET KO VULON"**_

"_All praise Bard Lunerio_

_Whose golden music became_

_Frost here in night"_

The word '_Fo – Frost'_ glowed brightly and I gained an…understanding of it. I knew instinctively how to channel the word into my _thu'um_, creating a shout of icy winds. I knew that the shout was inherently different than my own natural fire breath, an ability that was not a true Shout, merely an instinctual weapon. My fire was more than enough against any _joor_, but against another _dovah_? It was comparable to an iron dagger against Daedric sword at best.

Yet, something wasn't right. I knew that while I learned _Frost Breath_, it was still incomplete. It wasn't at full power.

Sighing, or rather growling in frustration, I took to the skies once more; I racked my brain for clues on the locations of other Walls. Seeing as I had only received some inconsistent images of the Walls from whatever sent me here, I had very little success.

I soared just above the clouds towards the Throat of the World, highest mountain in all of Tamriel. Up on its peak I could see a half-buried Wall along with a monastery of some sort a few dragon-lengths below. Suddenly a white dragon like me, but ancient from the look of his faded scales and torn wings, landed atop the mountain and gazed right at me. I almost wheeled away when I heard him shout out to me, his voice laced with a powerful _thu'um_.

"_**Come young one; let us speak as two dov. It has been long since I have felt the flames of another."**_

Against my better judgment I flew towards the old one and landed heavily on the snowy mountaintop. I looked up to him as he perched on the Wall. I had yet to speak to him when the Wall lit up like at the Bonestrewn Crest.

A stream of shadows and light, greater than before, was absorbed into me and I now somehow knew a new full Shout:

_Yol-Toor-Shul_

_Fire-Inferno-Sun_

_*From this point on, all dialogue between myself and Paarthurnax is to be considered entirely in the Dragon Language*_

I had barely sorted out my new Shout when the white dragon loosed a weak torrent of flames at my face, barely strong enough to melt the snow freshly fallen around me. Shaking off the mild embers I retaliated with a flame just as strong (or weak) at his scaly mug.

"Why is your Voice so weak, old one? That barely singed the snow beneath me."

It merely chuckled, a deep mountain shaking sound. I had the feeling that I was missing something here…

"Had I wished to hurt you youngling, I would have loosed flames hot enough to melt the scales from your bones and scorch the very earth below you. Nay, I merely greeted you as a fellow dragon. Now that our, as the mortals say, pleasantries are done with, let us speak of the return of all dragons to this land."

And with that, we spoke at great length. We spoke of the many centuries passed. The Numidium, the Warp in the West, the death of the Three Mortal 'Gods', the eruption of Red Mountain and finally the coming of Alduin and the Last Dragonborn.

Days passed yet I barely noticed the traveling of the sun and the moons. The land had become consumed by war yet I took little note of it. It was the night of the last day of Rain's Hand that Paarthurnax dismissed me from that mountain, sending me off to find my own path. Or as he said it:

"_I grow weary and need my rest. Fly to the west and search out your mortal descendent and the Dragonborn. Through them you shall find your answers. Be wary of Alduin's vengeance; his allies great in number while we are few in strength._

"_And test the might of your Thu'um. It is only through practice and meditation that your Voice may grow beyond what it is now. "_

So here I am flying above what I believe is Rorikstead in the darkness of the new moon. Once again I am filled with the ecstasy that is flight. I really enjoy it. I only mildly wished that I had returned as a human; I sorta missed swinging a sword around in the midst of battle.

Now I could enjoy my time roasting the poor bastards from the sky…

That's not healthy thinking is it? _*shrug mentally*_ It's healthy enough for a dragon I suppose…

* * *

**In the Druadach Mountains, Ragnar's 'Elites' Camp**

The scum of Ulfric's forces had slowly been culled, unbeknownst to the bastards. It had taken much planning on Galmar's part and the cooperation of his captains, but they had accomplished it. Only Ragnar and his men remained of those set to be…sacrificed.

Up in the mountains northeast of Dragon Bridge, Ragnar and his men rested in a small camp underneath a rocky overhang.

"Scout says that the troops are mobilizing. Looks like the Dragonborn's attacking at first light."

Ragnar grunted in acknowledgement at his second's report. The heavily scarred Enrick was a steadfast follower, a veteran of the Great War.

"Be ready then. Have the men take up positions along the ridge, hauling boulders with them. Once the Dragonborn has the Legion distracted, we'll drop a mountain on the bastards."

As his second left the campsite, Ragnar turned once more to stare into the dying flames. By noon tomorrow, he'd once again be a hero and would have that wench lying at his feet.

* * *

**Dragon Bridge, Legion Encampment**

_The sun just began to peek over the horizon when the sleepy sentries were mercilessly riddled with dozens of arrows. The Dragonborn led a small contingent of men slowly across the bridge; great makeshift wooden shields protecting them from the Legion's arrows. Spell fire struck the advancing Stormcloaks, but to the Legion's surprise, their spells just rolled off the wooden barriers._

_A faint glimmer shined from the advancing wall, signaling that the shields had been enchanted with a ward of some sort. A crude invention that wouldn't last, but it was holding._

Behind the Legion walls, Hadvar was gathering the men just behind the inn. He pulled half the archers and mages off the defensive wall and positioned them by the inn and the mill. Hadvar readied himself beside the fifteen legionnaires as he waited for the Stormcloaks to breach the gate.

_*thud*_

_*thud*_

…

…

"Fus…Ro!"

The gate was smashed open by a wave of blue energy, flinging the shards towards the first squads' positions. The men positioned just by the gate were bodily flung to the sides; the impact knocking them unconscious. The dust settled and Hadvar spotted the Dragonborn herself leading the charge.

"Hold steady men; wait for it…"

The charging Stormcloaks spread.

"Wait…"

They attacked the soldiers ferociously, the Dragonborn's dragonbone sword cleaving through shields and armor alike. Behind the northern houses the other squads tensed with the archers hidden on the rooftops.

* * *

**Stormcloak View**

Tier cleaved another legionnaire in two, wary of any surprises. It had been too easy to cross the bridge and her men had run into very little resistance within the town. As the last one fell, the Stormcloaks slowly spread out towards the town center. Tier had just turned the corner of the inn when she was tackled to the ground and a cry of "ATTACK!" sounded.

Out from behind the buildings, dozens of soldiers charged and took her men by surprise. Archers appeared on the roofs, bows taut and ready. Arrows rained on her men as they were pushed back towards the bridge.

Grappling with the man who tackled her, she managed to kick him away; stunning him long enough for her to fling a _Firebolt_ into the northern sky. A warcry sounded and Ragnar's men poured from over the ridge, boulders leading the way. Tier joined her men at the gate and kept the Imperials off them long enough for Ragnar's force to slam into the unprepared Legion's backs.

She could hear Ragnar's bloodthirsty cries as his men cleaved into the Legion. She snorted at the man's reckless tactics. She had her men slowly backstep to their encampment, subtly motioning the survivors to retreat. It wasn't until she heard the war horn that she ordered the full retreat.

Her part was done; now for Ragnar to follow the plan and fight his way right to Sovngarde.

* * *

**Legion View**

The Legion was caught in the middle of a pincer strike: the Dragonborn's men to the east, Ragnar's to the west. Hadvar was hard-pressed to counter the attack when a war horn sounded from the northern gate. Capt. Arturia charged in, leading a dozen Legion heavy troopers. The new force slammed into Ragnar's men, the Stormcloaks standing little chance against the heavily armored legionnaires.

He had been almost too preoccupied with his opponent to notice the now retreating Dragonborn and men. Thinking quickly, Hadvar adapted to their lucky break.

"Archers; focus your fire on the western force! Mages; _Rune_ spells to guard the bridge!"

The men were quick to follow. It was mere moments later that the last of the Stormcloaks within Dragon Bridge were either captured or killed that things quieted. Going amongst the dead, Hadvar spotted Arturia holding one particular at sword point despite him being bound tightly. Getting a better look at the captive, Hadvar realized who it was.

"Fort Commander Ragnar the Bloody… Who'd have thought that we'd catch you in a skirmish like this? I half expected you to come charging across that bridge with an army at your back. Looks like I was wrong…"

Ragnar just snarled at Arturia, spittle landing on her scratched breastplate. She just smirked at their new captive and turned to Hadvar.

"Cart this man to Solitude Hadvar; get him under lock and key in Castle Dour as soon as you can."

"Aye Captain."

Hadvar grabbed Ragnar and marched onto a cart. With five others, he set off to Solitude. Arturia had some work to do.

* * *

**High above Dragon Bridge…**

Gliding slowly in a downward spiral, I watched as the Legion warded off the Stormcloak attack. I was bemused by the fact that the current Legionnaire armor was pitifully weak compared to the armor of the Third Era. Studded leather and chainmail could not compare to good solid steel.

Using the wonderfully powerful eyesight granted by my draconic form, I could pick out the faces of every man and mer within the town-turned-fort. Two faces stood out in particular. One was a Nordic man in heavy legion steel escorting a prisoner to the city north of here, Solitude I believe. I vaguely remembered him from the gameplay videos of Skyrim I saw on TV.

The other was a woman with blazing red hair, so much like Renault's fiery locks. She too wore the heavy legion steel but wielded a sword unlike the ones used by others nowadays. It was so familiar…

Regardless, I decided it was time to cause a little havoc for the Legion and Stormcloaks. I swooped down quickly, the bleak skies covering my descent. The watchmen of both sides spotted me just as I loosed a torrent of flame on the Stormcloak fort walls.

"_**Yol…Toor…Shuuuuul!"**_

"Dragon!"

As I scorched the palisades and encampments, I couldn't help but hear the words of a song filtering up from both forts.

"_Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahrin, wah dien vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!_

_Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan._

_Dovahkiin fah hin kogaan mu draal!"_

* * *

_For those wondering what the words above mean, here they are:_

"_**Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by his honor is sworn, To keep evil forever at bay!**_

_**And the fiercest of foes rout when they hear triumph's shout.**_

_**Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray!"**_


	6. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

_**I accidently wrote that '**_…The new troops were able to chase off the red beast, forcing the rebels and their champion to retreat back across the bridge…_**' when there was no dragon attack during Chapter 2 RE. My bad…**_

_**Also mistranslated Krinvahzii as 'Courageous-Sky-Spirit' when it actually means 'Courageous-Spring-Spirit'. From now on it will be Courageous-Spring-Spirit. For Arthur was brave in spite of great odds and was reborn anew.  
**_

_**UPDATE: Did some editting to get rid of some typos spotted by G. S. tol Kriaal.****  
**_

* * *

**Becoming a Legend**

* * *

As I scorched the palisades and encampments, I couldn't help but hear the words of a song filtering up from both forts.

"_Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahrin, wah dien vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!_

_Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan._

_Dovahkiin fah hin kogaan mu draal!"_

* * *

*[Dragon speech/shouts – _**"Dovahkiin!"]**_

**Chapter 5 RE - **_**Of the scourge that has sullied our hopes and our dreams…**_

* * *

Arturia cursed as her men took cover from the torrents of flame that scorched the palisade walls. Archers and mages fired uselessly at the white dragon circling above. From her perch she could see the Stromcloaks were taking a greater beating then her men were; likely because the Dragonborn was on that side of the gorge.

"Hold your fire! Get the wounded to safety and only attack if that dragon gets too close!"

Her order was swiftly followed and the dragon had all but ceased its attacks on her fort, focusing entirely on the Stormcloak encampment. She directed her troops into the tunnels they had carved into the mountain, all for the specific purpose of weathering a dragon attack. As she guided the last man in, she watched as the dragon loosed a massive fireball at the enemy stronghold.

* * *

**Stormcloak Encampment**

"_**Yol-Toor-Shuuuul!"**_

Tier ducked behind a rocky outcropping as another torrent of flame was loosed on the fort. All around the men were peppering the white dragon with arrows, none of them even penetrating the beast's hide. It was typical of every clash she had with the dragons. She had to get it to land to do any real damage to it. The hide was too thick otherwise!

"Conserve your arrows and take cover!"

Most had followed her orders while the idiotic glory seekers were flash fried by the white dragon's flames. Thinking quickly, Tier hauled herself onto the fort's roof and ducked behind some rubble. She watched as the dragon readied for another swooping pass and broke out into a run as it descended. She flung herself onto its back, grasping at the small spikes along the spine.

"_**Dovahkiin! Climbing astride the back of a dovah !? Hio kos boziik fah aan joor!"**_

Tier tried to unsheathe her sword but the dragon flew wildly, trying to dislodge her from his back. It carried her southwest, high above the Druadach Mountains and swooped northeast, back through the Karth River Gorge at neck breaking speeds. She could barely hold onto the scales (and her stomach) when it suddenly rolled midair and tossed her off into the marshes east of Solitude.

Sputtering out the murky water, Tier crawled onto a small patch of land. She collapsed onto the swampy ground, too worn out to get up. She could feel the aches in her muscles and the broken bones. A few ribs, her left leg and sword arm. She was ready to pass out when the ground shook with a thundering quake. The dragon had landed and Tier could feel its hot breath on her back. Tilting her head up, she gazed at it.

The dovah was pale white like a Frost, but had the structure of an Ancient. Dazedly, Tier hauled herself to her knees. She wouldn't die with her face in the dirt.

"_**Amm, Dovahkiin, already you falter? Alok boziiksegein…"**_

The damn beast was gloating. Anger fueling her movements, Tier staggered to her feet despite her leg's protests. She glared balefully at the dragon as she leaned against dying tree and shouted with all her might.

"_**YOOOOLL!"**_

A blast of flames struck the dragon in the face, barely scorching its hide. She collapsed back against the dead bark, the world spinning around her.

"_**Ah, so you do have some manners, Dovahkiin. I have felt your Thu'um; now feel mine!"**_

A small (for a dragon) blast of flame smashed into Tier and tossed her into the marsh waters. She flailed uselessly, her vision was fading. She passed out just as a set of massive jaws fished her out of the swamp.

* * *

**Two days later…**

Tier sat up, gasping heavily. Gazing about her, she found herself in a temple of sorts. Wobbling slightly, she got up and dressed in some robes near the stone bed. The robes themselves were strangely familiar: dark blue, archaic in appearance and very warm.

She hobbled out off the living area and came out into a hall with many pots and candles. She eventually came to a stop in the middle of the room when she realized where she was.

_High Hrothgar…_

"You are awake, Dragonborn. It has been two days since you were brought here, unconscious and on the edge of death."

Whirling around, Tier spotted the speaker as the descended from the steps behind her.

"Arngeir, how did I get here?"

The only speaking Greybeard guided her back into the living area and sat her down at a stone table. He handed her a plate of bread and fruit, beckoning her to eat.

"You were brought here by an ally of sorts. It is lucky he was the one to find you. In your current state, you would have perished if not for his timely assistance."

Tier chewed thoughtfully on an apple, trying to remember what had happened. Her last memory was of the white dragon in the marsh. Arngeir left her to her thoughts and returned to his meditations. She had to recover her strength for the trials to come.

* * *

**Falkreath-Whiterun Border, Imperial Legion**

It had been two days since the dragon attack and the Dragonborn's disappearance. The Legion had made a push east and managed to reclaim the western plains of Whiterun and the entirety of Falkreath Hold.

Hadvar was currently scouting the area around Helgen while Arturia was setting up a defensive position just south of Riverwood.

"_Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red,_

_Who came riding to Whiterun from old Rorikstead._

_And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade,_

_As he told of bold battles and gold he had made."_

Spirits were high, Hadvar noted. With the Dragonborn missing in action and the Legion regaining ground eastward, the men couldn't have been more pleased. Ragnar's capture and subsequent execution only helped matters more. With a bounce in his step Hadvar joined his men in their merrymaking.

"_But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red  
When he met the shield-maiden Matilda, who said;_

_"Oh, you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead  
Now I think it's high time that you lie down and bleed!"_

_And so then came clashing and slashing of steel  
As the brave lass Matilda charged in, full of zeal_

_And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no more-  
When his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!"_

Arturia glanced southward as faint tones of happy voices filtered up down the mountain. She shook her head with an amused chuckle when she recognized the verses of 'Ragnar the Red'.

"Captain, today's report."

Turning back to the present, Arturia spotted one of her men, er women, Sofia walking towards her. The Breton woman handed her a report on the situation in Riverwood. The town had a very split opinion on the Civil War; favor for either side split fairly evenly between the two. On the upside the local blacksmith was firmly in favor of the Empire as well as the uncle of Hadvar. However, the owner of the mill, Gerdur was very obviously in Ulfric's camp. If she made any overt motions too soon, Arturia would have a large force of Stormcloaks marching south from Whiterun.

Arturia sighed and poured over the map she had on table. It closely marked the Legion's movement as well as possible. So far, the advance east has been steady. Legate Rikke was nearly ready to take Dawnstar as far as Arturia knew and Legate Jurgen was gathering men up near Ivarstead for a sneak attack on Riften.

With any luck they'd catch Ulfric off guard and confine the rebels to the northeast.

* * *

**Somwhere around Boethiah's Shrine**

I hummed a random tune under my breath as I scoured the land for a decent meal. I hadn't eaten since I 'woke up' and I was hungry! I swooped a bit lower and spotted a herd of cattle a dragon-length from the Windhelm Bridge. The farms there were very well off, making them the best targets for a hungry _dovah_.

With a fanged grin I swooped down and…

"Mooo!"

I flew back up quickly towards the mountain top to feast on the two yak-like cows I grabbed. This would good…

…

…

I sighed as the last of my meal slid its way down my gullet. The two were just right for me, as well as the stupid frost troll that tried taking a bite out of MY lunch. Frost trolls tasted a bit like burnt bacon and crunchy tuna when you charbroil them before eating. I was ready to take a little nap when I heard a thunderous roar echo to the southwest. Intrigued, I took off to see who it was.

I flew past a small settlement and over the sulfur flats towards the Bonestrewn Crest where I spotted a _**dovahsos**_, a blood dragon fighting with these two giants. I watched as the green dragon swooped around a knocked one giant over with a tail whip to the face. He (?) killed the other with a point-blank frost blast to the face. Sadly, the first giant recovered quick enough to grab the dragon by their tail and slam them to the ground. Seeing the giant raise its club to finish the dragon off, I decided to intervene.

I swooped down and slammed into the giant's back, tearing at his neck with my jaws. He was howling in pain as he struggled to get to his feet and me off his back. Alas, I loosed a full powered _**Yol-Toor-Shul**_ and finished the fight.

I glanced at the blood dragon who had just recovered from his face meeting the dirt violently.

_*All speech between dragons is in the dragon tongue*_

I loosed a small stream of fire at the healing dragon's face in greeting. My hello was returned rather forcefully though…

"Why did you interfere, White-Scale? I had no need for your help!"

_*snort* _"Our apologies Swamp-Lurker, we could see that you had the fight completely under control…"

He growled and shot a wave of blue at me, shoving me back a few dozen feet. I slammed into the hillside with a heavy thud. I retaliated with an _**Unrelenting Force**_ of my own, much stronger than his own that blasted him straight into a sulfur pool. I flapped my wings once to hop over to the downed dragon and pinned him to the ground, my _Thu'um_ ready to be unleashed again.

"I did not come here to cater to your ego, Swamp-Lurker! Tell me your name or burn!"

The blood dragon struggled under my weight before giving up. He glared balefully at me and spat his answer.

"Norokvithdur, blood dragon and devout follower of Alduin!"

_Fierce-Serpent-curse? Too bad he's an Alduin-fanatic…_

"Krinvahzii, white elder and your death! _**Yol-Toor-Shul!**_"

I loosed the _Thu'um_ within me and drowned his head in flames. He roared in pain and thrashed pitifully as I drew out the flames for as long as I could. I finally ended the shout and was rewarded with the Norokvithdur's dead gaze.

I was ready to take off when the carcass started to glow and I absorbed a bit off his soul as it returned to Alduin. I wondered what that was about when I was assaulted with images of Norokvithdur freezing countless mortals and beasts; the word _**Krah**_ echoing in my mind.

I blinked and the assault ended. Shaking my head, I curiously tried out my frost breath on his corpse.

"_**Fo-KRAH!"**_

Formerly a small burst of icy _thu'um_, my frost breath was now an icy lance of cold air that left a trail of snow to Norokvithdur's body. Cool…

_Urgh, pun not intended…_

* * *

**One week later, Falkreath Hold, Helgen**

"_We drink to our youth, for the days come and gone._

_For the age of aggression is just about done._

_We'll drive out the Stormcloaks and restore what we own._

_With our blood and our steel we'll take back our home."_

Hadvar watched the dredges of his mead swirl around the bottom of his mug. He glanced around the mostly-rebuilt inn, spotting his comrades nursing their wounds, both figurative and literal. Three nights ago the Stormcloaks attacked their encampment south of Riverwood and pushed his unit back all the way back to Helgen.

Any defense they had tried to mount was useless against the enemy advance; both Galmar and Ulfric had both led the charge. The retreat had cost the Legion a great deal of supplies and men, their numbers down a full two-thirds of their garrison. Hadvar was miserable despite Arturia's claims that if it weren't for his decision to reinforce Helgen's walls when they first reoccupied the town, they would have been massacred completely.

As it was, morale were at an all-time low and they wasn't enough mead and ale to keep their spirits.

"Budge up…"

Hadvar glanced back and found Arturia holding two pints and a platter of food. He scooted down the bench and nabbed a strip of beef off the platter. Arturia handed him one of the mugs and started on one of the apples.

"I'm sorry Captain…"

She sighed as he once again apologized.

"Apology not accepted Hadvar…and don't call me Captain. It wasn't your fault that we couldn't hold the line. We were outnumbered ten to one. If it weren't for you making Helgen livable and shoring up the defenses, we wouldn't have held out as long as we have. And wasn't it your idea to cause a rockslide to block the lakeside roads? Thanks to you, we still hold Falkreath and have a chance to retake Whiterun. So cheer up and drink your ale Captain."

Hadvar huffed and said, "Don't call me captain…" Arturia smirked as she watched Hadvar down the ale she had given him. Hadvar glanced at her smug expression when the room started spinning.

"Wh-ha…?"

"_Down with Ulfric! The killer of kings!_

_On the day of your death we'll drink and we'll sing._

_We're the children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives._

_And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies!_

_But this land is ours and we'll see it wiped clean._

_Of the scourge that has sullied our hopes and our dreams."_


	7. Chapter 6

_This is a bit longer than usual and a bit later than I wished. Hope you like it!_

* * *

_**Becoming a Legend**_

* * *

Hadvar huffed and said, "Don't call me captain…" Arturia smirked as she watched Hadvar down the ale she had given him. Hadvar glanced at her smug expression when the room started spinning.

"Wh-ha…?"

"_Down with Ulfric! The killer of kings!_

_On the day of your death we'll drink and we'll sing…_

* * *

_Remember, all speech between dragons will inherently be in the dragon language unless there is a man/mer/non-dragon!__ Look for the '__**DOVAH**__' at the start of a section that marks dragon POV_

**Chapter 6 RE – _Lost in the shadow of the black wings unfurled._  
**

* * *

_Alduin's wings, they did darken the sky._

_His roar fury's fire, and his scales sharpened scythes._

_Men ran and they cowered, and they fought and they died._

_They burned and they bled as they issued their cries._

_**DOVAH**_

I've developed a taste for charbroiled yak-cows and barbequed frost trolls. Both are surprisingly easy to come by and are quite filling. It's been some time since I dropped the Dragonborn off at High Hrothgar, nearly a month in fact, and I haven't seen hide or hair of her since.

I spotted those two legionnaires that caught my eye at Helgen a few days ago. The woman had been dragging the man into a mostly wrecked house when I flew over. I would have swooped down to get a closer look but the low-lying clouds were practically flooding the area. As much as it pains me to say it, I really don't like being cold. Sure the water is great if you're lounging in it in the middle of the day, especially in that lake southeast of Ivarstead, but flying in the rain really sucks. The water clings to you and the wind practically freezes it to your wings, making it harder to fly. And flying through snowfall and blizzards are ever worse!

_*roar!*_

"_Dragon!"_

I'd monologue more but I just spotted a young red below me swooping around a ruined fort. Intrigued, I lower my altitude and catch what he's screaming at the fort occupants.

"_**Dir med fin sunvaar hin kos, joorre!"**_

I stand corrected. _She_'s attacking the fort. Hmm, I always wondered if there were any female _dov_ around. Looks like I found one…

_Just hope she doesn't try to kill me, like most females I run into…_

Nedley, a lanky Imperial garbed as one of the many brigands of Skyrim, cowered in fear as the fort he and his fellows occupied. Far above the fort was red dragon that they had managed to piss off. Nedley shuddered as the walls shook and rubble fell around him. He had told those idiots not to mess with the beast; now look where it got them!

He knew it was a bad idea; after all, you never tickle a sleeping dragon!

His dear old granny, the Nine bless her soul up in Aetherius, had always told him that. He always thought it meant not looking for trouble but he never would have guessed she meant it literally. By Shor, whoever heard of a ticklish dragon?!

Well apparently this one was ticklish and his comrades had thought it funny to try and pat it on the neck while it was sleeping.

A blast of fire broke through the upper floors, causing the walls to collapse. When he opened his eyes and the dust settled, Nedley found that he was completely exposed to the attacks of the dragon. He spotted the dragon glaring down at him from above, so he did the only sensible thing at the moment: Nedley broke down and cried for his mommy…

"_MMMMMOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMYYYY YYYY!"_

I snorted when the shrill cry of a little girl filtered up from the fort. I would've been worried that child had gotten caught up in the angry gal's attack, but spotted the man who had squealed. Choking back a laugh, I swooped down a nipped the dragoness's neck and shot back up into the sky. I heard her shocked screech and the beating of her wings slowly gaining on me.

I let out a draconic-smirk as I lead the lass on a merry chase above the clouds, dodging blasts of fire all the while. After a good hour or so I could tell my pursuer was getting tired so I decided to let her off easy. I tucked in my wings and went into a steep dive towards the relatively warm waters of Lake Ilinata north of Falkreath.

Hearing her following at a much slower pace, I unfurled my wings a good mile above the waters and glided out of her way as she plummeted into the waters below. I wheeled around, watching as she thrashed angrily in the lake water. I would've taunted her if not for the fact that she had stopped thrashing and started sinking into the lake.

_Fuck, she can't swim…"_

Sighing dramatically, I dived into the water. Swimming as a dragon is a lot like slithering through the water. Floating under her, I guided her still body into the shallows and onto the shore. She crouched on the pebbled shore sputtering/glaring at me balefully. She looked ready to try and flame me again but just collapsed…

_Hmm, what do I do know?_

* * *

**Two days prior - Falkreath Hold, Helgen , Captain Arturia's Cabin**

Hadvar groaned as he came to. He groped randomly in the dark as he tried to regain his bearings. His wandering hands came upon something soft and warm so he buried his head between the two softest lumps of the pillow. He sighed and listened to the beating resonating from within the pillow…

_Beating?!_

Eyes snapping open, Hadvar bolted out of the bed and slammed onto the floor. The bed's other occupant screeched in surprise at the sudden loss of warmth, both Hadvar and the blanket.

"Gods Hadvar, what's going on?!"

Hadvar blinked at the shivering form of Arturia…a very naked Arturia.

"Ah, sorry..."

"Sorry my ass; get those sheets and get back in bed soldier!"

He draped the fallen sheets over both of them and settled back in bed, still a bit groggy. He laid there stroking her hair, silently trying to figure out how he got there when,

"I drugged your ale and we had sex…lots of sex. No close your eyes and go back to sleep, I'm bloody tired. You're bloody wonderful in bed Hadvar but a gal needs her rest."

He would've followed that order if not for the frantic pounding the door took at that very moment. Arturia bolted up, livid as a wounded sabre.

"…someone better be dying or Talos help me…"

Both got dressed and opened the door. Outside was a frantic Eirick stood there, blood seeping from a wound on his forehead.

"What's going on soldier?"

"B-bandits Captain! They're attacking us from all sides and outnumber us five to one! We've mounted a defense but I can't find Cpt. Hadvar anywhere!"

Arturia smacked the slightly delirious Nord and grabbed her armor and blade.

"He's in here with me! Get the troops into the keep yesterday soldier; Hadvar and I'll roundup any stragglers. Move it!"

Eirick nodded and bolted as fast as he could. Hadvar and Arturia, once armed, took off in separate directions, circling the keep and rounding up any soldiers they found. They met up at the keep and bolted the doors, securing everyone inside.

They moved further into the partially restored keep, passing the wounded and dying. They ended up in what was left of the fort commander's office with some of the senior soldiers.

"What's the situation Elsi?"

Elsi, a pale blonde Imperial in studded chainmail and the main strategist among them, pulled out a rough map of Helgen and pointed out several parts.

"We've taken heavy casualties; only twenty men are left able to fight. We've ten men wounded and nineteen dead. We've lost almost all our rations; only enough bread, water and dried meats to feed us for a week tops. Our main food storage was under the inn but the bastards were burning it last I saw."

Elsi dragged her hand across the map, a charcoal piece etching out X's in certain spots.

"They hit us hardest at the gates and completely slaughtered all the men we had on watch. They came under the cover of the morning mist and struck right as the guard was changing. _*sigh*_ I don't see what we can do Cpt. Arturia…those doors won't hold too long and we aren't able to fight this many bandits off."

Arturia glared at the map, trying to figure out a solution when Hadvar spoke up.

"Farid, were you able to clear out those collapsed passages I mentioned; the ones leading through the caves?"

The Redguard who had been nursing a shallow cut on his arm started at Hadvar's question. He shook it off easily.

"We finished yesterday Hadvar, why?"

Hadvar smiled and yanked out another map, this one of the keep. Arturia was surprised to find that there were also a few new additions to the map, which she had drawn in the first place. Hadvar traced a path through the new sections.

"I found these caverns when I first escaped Helgen during the first dragon attack. I escaped through these tunnels. They lead out roughly a quarter mile north. If we're quiet, we can get the wounded out and to Falkreath."

Arturia let out a small gasp and beamed at the suddenly blushing Hadvar. Smiles appeared all around and the soldiers went about getting the wounded ready for transport.

"Brilliant Hadvar, another reason you're a captain. You really think ahead." "Thank yo-"

"Captains! They're breaking down the door!"

Both rushed through the halls. They found Eirick and some others barricading the main doors with whatever they could find. Thinking quickly Hadvar started issuing orders, surprising both himself and all the troops.

"Eirick, help Farid get the wounded into the caves below. Take fifteen of the able fighters and guide them to Falkreath."

The burly Nord was quick to obey and Hadvar turned to Arturia.

"Arturia, lead them and get the Jarl to send his guards to get rid of these bastards. I'll stay behind with the five remaining to keep them busy while you and the wounded escape."

She had been about to argue when Hadvar silenced her with a searing kiss. She stuttered an agreement and bolted deeper into the keep. Sighing, Hadvar and the five men that remained pulled out their weapons and shields. They prepared themselves as the barricade slowly fell apart, the bandits' battering ram slamming into the door.

* * *

_**DOVAH**_

So I fished the dragoness out of the lake and stayed with her until she woke up. And boy did she wake up; she took one look at me and I was slammed into the tree line by a shrill _Unrelenting Force_. I had barely recovered when she crashed on top of me and tried tearing my throat out.

It was familiar feeling to say the least…

Anyways, I tossed her off with a mild (-ish) _Unrelenting Force_ of my own and pinned her long enough to get her to calm down. To say things were awkward would have been putting it lightly…

_**Daal-Frul-Vahkrut**__** (Return-Ephemeral-Memory)**_

"_Greetings, I am Krinvahzii, white elder and recently awakened. You are?"_

"…_Dunvenaaz…"_

'_Grace-Wind-Mercy?' "An apt name for one such as you."_

"…_red maiden and slave to Alduin…"_

…_awkward._

_**Daal-Frul-Vahkrut**_

"…you say you are a slave to Alduin. Are you not a follower of the First-born, a willing servant of the World-Eater?"

The dragoness looked away pointedly but I persisted.

"If you wish to be free from the shadow of his black wings, trust in me. I too wish for freedom and can be counted as a friend to all those who oppose him. Merely speak your heart, Dunvenaaz…"

"…I-I do not wish to speak of such things! Leave me be!"

She roared and took off eastward and disappeared over the mountains. I sighed and took flight as well, heading south towards Helgen. I was curious about those two legionnaires, especially the woman. Something about her was very intriguing…her sword most of all.

Barely a minute in flight and I already spotted the female legionnaire. She was leading a caravan of injured soldiers to the town of Falkreath. Curious on where her male companion was, I titled towards Heglen and spotted the answer.

In the ruined courtyard of the keep were the legionnaire and three others. They seemed to have been cornered by a large group of bandits. I could see that that the four were exhausted and injured with no avenue of escape. Wait, make that just him; the others just got executed. He was fighting rather fiercely, taking at least twice as many bandits in exchange for each of his downed men. He was faltering though, his wounds taking their toll.

The brigands around him sensed the same thing and encircled him more closely, resorting to jeers, soft stabs and feints to keep him upright. That didn't seem fair…

Well, I was rather curious about him and the female with the sword. I didn't want either to die before I could satisfy that curiosity. With that in mind I decided to save the man and hopefully have a non-Greybeard mortal that would speak with me without trying to kill me/run away in terror.

* * *

**Helgen Keep**

Hadvar gritted his teeth as he forced himself to keep dodging their blades. He didn't know if he could keep this, this game up! His men were dead and he was sure to follow. The bastards were playing with him! Finally Hadvar stumbled and fell; this seemingly signaling the game's end. As the bandits closed in, he only had one thought:

'_Arturia…'_

Hadvar closed his eyes and envisioned her in all her glory; sorry that he wouldn't be able to see her at least one last time.

"Ha, the Imperial dog finally falls! Let's see if he bleeds just as good as his friends."

"Aye Gre-…" _**"Rrrooooaaaaarrrr!"**_

"What in Oblivion?!"

"_**Zu'u Krinvahzii! Bovul, fah him oblaan los het nivahriin joorre!"**_

"DRAGON!"

Hadvar's eyes bolted open and he looked up. There, coming right at them, was a white dragon! He was sure it was the same one that carried the Dragonborn off over a week ago. Body aching, Hadvar dragged his limp body towards one of the many piles of rubble, away from the scrambling bandits. Propping himself upon one of the broken stones, Hadvar could only gaze in awe as the white dragon slaughtered the brigands. Swooping down and lifting them away, drowning them in torrents of flame and ice; it was a completely one-sided massacre, just like the one that destroyed Helgen.

Finally the assault ended with all of the bandits dead or fleeing. Hadvar was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when the beast descended from the sky and landed right in front of him. Hadvar froze, staring right into its eyes, not daring to move an inch. He was ready to accept his imminent death when the beast spoke!

"_**Faas ni, joor fah zu'u aan fahdon."**_

"Ah, pardon?"

The dragon smirked.

"_**I forget that not many speak as dovah. Fear not, mortal for I am a friend."**_

"A friend? Can't say that I believe that; I'm not sure I can trust you not to eat me, _friend_."

"_**Hmm, how wise of you mortal. Then I swear upon Father Akatosh that I mean you and you ilk no harm. You have my word, mortal."**_

"Then call me Hadvar of Riverwood, Captain of the Imperial Legion"

"_**Krinvahzii of Monahven, one who opposes Alduin's rule."**_

Hadvar nearly choked on his tongue. The World Eater?!

"Wait, Alduin as in the World Eater? As in 'Bane of Kings' and 'hunger to swallow the world'?"

"_**Aye, twas Alduin who first appeared in this era, burning this town to the ground. He has returned to fulfill his oath and devour the entire world. I was among those who would stand against him; not all dovah follow Alduin of their free will. It is with the Dovahkiin that our hopes rest, for only through her may Alduin fall."**_

"_**If this Civil War continues, the Dovahkiin will not have the strength to defeat Alduin. With every death Alduin grows more powerful. Each soul is His to devour; none will reach their beloved Sovngarde."**_

Hadvar would have asked more but he heard a warcry from beyond the dragon. Both glanced behind and spotted Arturia charging with a dozen Falkreath guardsmen at her back. Hadvar saw Krinvahzii roll his eyes at the charging women and take off, swooping around Helgen and dodging their arrows.

"Hadvar!"

He turned back and Arturia slammed into him, trying to drag him away from the ruins.

"Come on Hadvar! We have to get away!"

"Arturia! _*Hadvar grabs her, stopping her*_ Get them men to stand down!"

"Wha-…"

"Hurry!"

Confused, Arturia followed his orders and the guardsmen gathered around the two. They warily eyed Krinvahzii as he circled, coming closer with every pass. They nearly attacked again when the white dragon landed upon the crumbling wall, looking upon them from above.

Arturia, for the first time, wondered if Hadvar was insane. She watched fearfully as he got up and limped past the tense guards. She could see them readying their bows. Arturia wanted nothing more than to grab Hadvar and drag him all the way to Falkreath, away from this madness.

She was ready to do just that when he actually started _talking to the dragon_!

"Sorry about that, friend. Cpt. Arturia panicked when she spotted us."

To her immense surprise, the beast actually talked back. The sight caused the guards to nearly drop their weapons in shock.

"_**Hn, faas ni Hadvar-fahdon. It is laughable to think that they could actually harm one such as I!"**_

Arturia edged forward and grabbed Hadvar's arm, holding him as if the world was about to end and the ground about to crumble beneath their feet.

"H-Hadvar? W-what is going on?!"

He glanced at her and shrugged.

"Well, this dragon saved my life. It drove off the bandits after they killed my men.

She gazed up at the white dragon who was practically smirking at them both. Squaring her shoulders, Arturia stepped forward and bowed gratefully at him.

"W-well then, I thank you for your aid. I don't know what I'd do without Hadvar; Thank you dragon."

She straightened and the dragon's maw was but a foot from her face. Its hot breath stunk of sulphur and flame.

"_**You are welcome, Yol-vahdin. To speak truthfully, I did not aid him purely out of the goodness of my heart. Tell me, that sword you wield; what is its name? From whence did it come?"**_

Arturia was stumped; she didn't know how to take that.

"Uh, this sword is an heirloom of my family. _'The Flame of the West, Anduril'_ has been a treasure of my family for generations. None but a Lost-Saint may wield it. My ancestor, Arthur Lost-Saint was the one who first wielded it; no one knows where he got it."

'_Hmm, so this is my mortal descendent…wait… Hadvar smells strongly of her and she of him… Both stink strongly of each other and neither share each other's blood… He's been bedding her?!'_

* * *

_**DOVAH**_

"_**Hadvar-fahdon… I do not know whether to devour you, or praise you, for your insolence…"**_

"Wait, what?!"

_We need saviors to free us from Alduin's rage._

_Heroes on the field of this new war to wage._

_And if Alduin wins, man is gone from this world._

_Lost in the shadow of the black wings unfurled._


End file.
